Secrets in the Breeze
by Sol-angelii
Summary: A young man return to his family home in Whiterun. He looks and acts as a nord, but carries heavy secrets not even the strong winds of Skyrim can move.   Story will contain homosexual content, pairing will most likely be Vilkas/oc but nothing is certain


**A/N:**

**Please note that this is my very first Skyrim fiction ever, and also I do not own anything besides Magnus. This will eventually turn into a story with homosexual content, if this is something that offends you, I advise you to leave this story now while it is still fairly innocent. I will offer new warnings later when things get more explicit of course.**

Waking up was always a struggle. The young man stretched underneath the furs on his bed and stared idly out into the room, letting the comfortable warmth of sleep seep further into his body. He wiggled towards the side of his bed and peered down through the cracks in the floor, spying that the embers were still alive down there.

He stretched once more before swinging his legs out of bed and searched for a pair of breeches. With a bare chest and bare feet he padded downstairs to toss a few logs into the resting fires. Watching as elegant flames began to lick its food, ready to devourer it.

A yawn forced itself out from his mouth and he padded over to the bowl filled with cold water. He stared into it for a little while, studying the black war-paint looking tattoos around his eyes that he had gotten back when he visited Hammerfell. The black made his pale skin and blue eyes look even more pale and blue. He was a nord by any standard, even his hair held a golden tint. And his built was definitely that of a nord, maybe not one of the biggest, but definitely that of a nord. He splashed some water into his face, washing away the sleep.

However every time he admitted to be a nord, he felt like a traitor, an intruder, on the inside. Which right had he to name himself after such a fair and honest people?

A mix such as he, not to mention… no, no he did not wish to put word on it. He splashed some extra water into his face, feeling the icy liquid trickle down onto his chest. Taking comfort in the black around his eyes as the water settled again.

He had come to Whiterun with the wish to settle down, having travelled for so long it had actually managed to make him weary. Bringing with his father's deed to a house in Skyrim to try and settle down in the land of _half _of his ancestors had seemed like a good idea. And he had liked Whiterun from the moment he spotted the proud city with Dragonsreach as its crown. He had been filled with confidence when he entered the Jarl's hall, deed to Breezehome ready in his pocket. The Jarl had wished the stranger welcome and then asked what business he had. The deed had been pulled out and shown to the Jarl with the following words.

"I wish to claim ownership to my forefathers' home."

The Jarl's eyes had widened, but he took the offered deed and read it over once before looking back at the man in front of him.

"You are one of Bjorn's kin?"

"I am his son, Magnus" He had replied.

Jarl Balgruuf had smiled then.

"Truly…? How goes with my old friend…?"

"My father no longer resides with the living" Magnus replied quietly. The Jarl's expression changed to one of compassion.

"I see… may the ancestors take good care of him in Sovngarde"

Magnus just bowed his head in respect of his father's memory.

What happened after was still a bit of a blur. After learning who Magnus really was, the Jarl became friendlier in regards of giving up the long empty house to this traveller. The only thing Magnus really had to do was to pay for repairs and re-furnishing. The very thought of sitting down by the table to go through a vast amount of documents and purchase-papers made the man almost physically recoil. This was probably the reason for why Magnus simply dumped the required amount of coin with the Jarl's steward and left with the promise of returning in a few weeks time.

Upon returning, Proventus had first downright scolded him for just taking off like that, leaving the poor steward to do wild guesses at how to furnish Breezehome and so on.

He looked around his home; he still had to admit that the steward had done a very good job.

The people of Whiterun had been curious about the new arrival and Magnus had a feeling the opinions about him were rather split. He got along fairly well with most of the male residents, maybe except that gloat Nazeem, but when it came to the women... Well, Magnus never were any good with women. He got along fine with Adrianne the smith, his own father had been quite the skilled smith and Adrianne with her "everything must be earned through honesty" attitude reminded him of his father. And maybe most importantly as to why Magnus got along with Adrianne… she was married and true to her husband. Ultimately meaning she didn't make a pass or move at him, unlike that Ysolda woman that glanced so heatedly at him when he passed her in the market; he thought she at least would have burned off his clothes if she could. There was also the wife of Nazeem, Ahlam, who eyed him with great interest whenever he went to read by the Gildergreen.

All this unwanted, female attention was making his nose twitch. And when his nose twitched it meant he really wanted to travel. It gave a sense of freedom, and blessed solitude from femaleness.

He dumped a few healing potions into his knapsack that he'd placed on table for the time being. He would be back though, he liked Whiterun a lot. And he did feel at home here, but he just needed a small break. He needed to run away for a bit, he always did… He finished packing and struggled a bit with his home-made steel armour, he really needed to refit the blasted thing. As he went out he grabbed his trusted bow by the door.

It was still early, with some luck he'd make it away from Whiterun before someone he knew could see him.

"There you are!"

Magnus sent a sour thought up to the divines who was doing this on purpose, Adrianne was NEVER this early in the mornings.

"Going somewhere Magnus?" Adrianne halted as she stood in front of the almost guilty-looking man.

"Uh…hunting? Err… have you seen the prices lately, outrageous"

"Can you do something for me real quick first?"

Magnus sighed "What?"

"I made this war axe, and it is one of my best works yet, but I want Eorlund Gray-mane to have a look at it. If he deems it good work, I can start on that great sword for Jarl Balgruuf!"

Magnus blinked at the woman till she actually squirmed.

"What…?" She barked when she received no reply.

"Can you not do this yourself?" Magnus asked bluntly. The woman sputtered for a moment, showering Magnus with reasons as of why she could not do this, she would look like a rambling novice eager for a master's praise when she wished to try and at least get some renown in this city. Magnus held up his hands as if to shield himself from the stream of words.

"I'll take it, I'll take it"

"Thank you Magnus" She gave him the axe and went back to her forge, might as well start her up early this day.

Magnus muttered darkly all the way up to the Gildergreen, there he stopped and looked up at Jorrvaskr. The famous hall of the companions, there were no finer warriors. At least that was what was said about these people. He began climbing the stairs, walking past the doors of the great hall and towards the Skyforge. Already, at this time in the morning, one could hear the best blacksmith in all of Tamriel hammering away on Skyforge steel.

"Greetings Gray-mane" He tried to sound cheerful, but by the gods, a drowning cat would sound more cheerful. Eorlund Gray-mane straightened up and looked at the approaching young man with such an intense gaze it nearly made Magnus lose focus.

"I, uh…, came to deliver this axe with a request that you evaluate the work" He slide the axe from his belt.

"It was made by Adrianne" He added and almost wished he would hurl himself into the Skyforge to end this awkwardness. The smith eyed him for a few more moments before he smiled a truly warm and friendly smile.

"Relax young man; no one's going to eat you up here"

"W-what…?"

Eorlund roared with laughter at the young man's perplexed expression.

"I will look at the axe when I have time to spare, say, how well can you work a forge boy?"

"My father taught me a few things while he was still alive"

"Oh yes…? And who may you be then?"

"Magnus, son of Bjorn Breeze"

"I remember him…! You say he is no longer with us…? May his soul rest with our ancestors then, but since you are of the Breeze family I have no doubt about your smith skill"

"I have much to learn" Magnus swiftly added, his father's voice nagging all the customs of Nords within his head. Eorlund nodded in approval.

"Could you perhaps aid me for a little bit…? I have a bit too much steel to shape"

Magnus nearly groaned, nearly. He wondered if one could actually hear the gods laughing as they poked and prodded and added to his misery.

"Do you get a lot of company here?" he nearly added "female" to company.

"Ah, you seek a bit of solitude. Do not worry young man; people up here are few and far between if you don't count me"

He nodded then and slid his knapsack off.

The two men had worked the Skyforge for… Magnus didn't know how long, when firm steps could be heard against the stone stairs. Magnus simply continued sharpening the sword he held between his gloved hands as Eorlund turned from the forge to face whoever the visitor was. Magnus had shut himself off to the rest of the world, simply basing in enjoyable work that reminded him of happier and better times. Times before _she _had tried to break into their lives.

"Aye, he is the son of Bjorn. Do you remember him?"

"That I do, my memory serves me well"

The voices of Eorlund and the visitor made it through Magnus' memory hazed mind and he woke up, glad to have been dragged away from the darker parts of his mind. He got up and turned to face the visitor.

The man held himself with such dignity and honour Magnus was nearly struck by deep, embarrassing admiration.

"This is Kodlak Whitemane, harbinger of the companions. He knew your father well" Eorlund supplied to the almost star-struck looking man.

"I-it's an honour" Magnus stammered.

"Please dear boy, you don't need to be so formal" Kodlak smiled, an almost fatherly smile. Eorlund inched them over to take a little rest by the forge, both men eager to hear about their friend from the past.

"Your father was a good man, Magnus, why he moved we don't know"

"He never said" Magnus replied quietly.

"It was such a shock when he did too, and so suddenly. I was already with the companions and Bjorn had great plans about joining our ranks. He was a fine warrior and would have made an excellent companion"

The man just nodded, this Bjorn the two spoke of was indeed his father, but it was a father he didn't know much about. It was a Bjorn from another time so distant from his own that Magnus couldn't quite grasp it.

"Say, how do you fare in battle, boy?"

"I've survived so far, but I have much to learn" The answer rolled out from him without much thought, coaxing laughter from the two older men.

"You certainly have the right kind of spirit, say, would you perhaps like to try your hand at becoming a companion?"

Magnus stared into the pale, friendly eyes of Kodlak Whitemane. And he saw that the man was deadly serious.


End file.
